


Unputdownable

by heymoonsie



Series: The Docile Serpent [3]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Book Lover Aziraphale, Childish Crowley, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Female Aziraphale, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 14:21:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4183101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heymoonsie/pseuds/heymoonsie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley craves attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unputdownable

It was rare for them to fight. One would have thought that by their contradictory natures, arguments would be a constant part of their relationship, but in fact, they could count with one hand the times they had any dispute. Crowley was too fond of Aziraphale and had a hopeless weakness for her eyes. She was quickly aware of her advantage, but never abused her power over him. Her carefree attitude was more than enough to sedate the both of them should any disagreement occur. However, sometimes he could be petulant, and of all the goodness she possessed, she was just an angel, not a saint. Aziraphale could be irritated.

Crowley was used to having his way with the world, and usually she was okay with that. Aziraphale would let him get away with a lot of things, even humor him, sometimes, for she knew that his stunts were more mischievous than harmful. As tolerant as she is of Crowley's chaotic mayhem, some things were just off-limits: books, for example. Her book collection were sacred and her reading time precious. Even Crowley knew not to offend that. 

Aziraphale was curled up in bed, cradling a book, and Crowley was lying next to her. He knew not to bother her when she was reading. Most of the time, he respected her space. He loved watching her expressions change through the course of the story anyway. But he was bored, and he wanted those eyes fixed on him and not those pages. He knew a thing or two about changing her expressions, too. A different kind of pleasure no book can offer.

   “Angel, what are you reading?” He asked. Or more like whined. “You’ve been reading for  _hours_!”  
   “Shhh…” She hushed him soothingly, as one would a child. “It’s a book about the history of love.”  
   “Love? I think you should stop reading about it and start  _making_  it.” He said bluntly.

She gave him a funny look, reached out a hand to pat his head. He leaned into the touch automatically. She kept gently petting him, but her mind was back to the pages.

   “Come on, enough theory, let’s  _practice_!” He guided her hand to caress his face.

The corner of her lips turned upward at his words, but she didn’t move, not one to be easily tempted by mischievous eyes and wicked smiles.

Crowley wasn’t going to stop at that. Damn him if he couldn't be persuasive. He opened his mouth and sucked at her index finger. She gasped and looked at him with wide eyes.

   “Pay attention to me!” he said before biting down her finger.  
   “Crowley!” She jerked away her hand and looked at him unbelievingly, exasperated by his childish words.

He stared at her but she just shook her head mildly, going back to her book. As she read, she absent-mindedly put the bitten digit in her own mouth, the action warming up his blood.

   “Alright, this is it.” He sat up and faced her. “Time to choose, Angel, who do you want in bed? Me or the book?”

She looked at him with a slight frown, unfazed by his ultimatum. Did he just think of the book as a person? This was getting ridiculous. She was a little annoyed herself, being interrupted multiple times during her reading, so she tipped her head and glanced in the direction of the bedroom door in a “suit yourself” manner.

He stumbled out of bed and glared at her. She glared back in defiance. He snatched his pillow angrily before stomping out of the bedroom like a five year old.

 

 

Later that night, she found him cuddling his pillow and sulking on the couch with his back to her. He heard her footsteps and tensed. She crouched next to him and ran her hand up and down his arm attentively.

   “Crowley?” She whispered. “I’m sorry, love. Please come back to bed.”

He refused to look at her, being the sullen child he not-so-secretly was.

   “Please?” 

Her pleading voice could work miracles, and when she planted kisses on his shoulder and the back of his neck, his resolve melted away with the tension in his body. He turned to face her, and she must have seen the hurt look in his eyes, because she brushed his brows with her fingers and kissed him twice before looking him straight in the eyes.

   “I love you.” She said softly.  
   “More than your books?” He blurted out before he could stop himself.

She seemed surprised for a second then smiled fondly, kissing his nose.

   “Of course, silly head.”

He closed his eyes and let out a happy sigh.


	2. Unapologetic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley apologizes.

Aziraphale wasn’t expecting Crowley.

He rarely came to the bookstore anymore, now that they lived together, but it was always a nice surprise to see him push open the door to her little shop.

   “Crowley, what brings you here?” She greeted him pleasantly.  
   “Just passing by.” Crowley smiled at her, a little nervous. “Oh! I brought you chocolate!”

He scrambled to get the box of chocolate out of his coat pocket and handed it to her. She thanked him and accepted it incredulously. It was easily 30 degrees outside, he might be able to keep his coat and suit on without sweating thanks to supernatural interventions, but surely his powers couldn’t have saved the chocolates from melting. She’ll have to put them in the fridge and eat them later. 

   “What’s the matter?” She eyed him curiously. He seems uncomfortably fidgety.  
   “Nothing.” He answered too quickly, babbling. “I’m fine. You’re fine.  _Fine_. We’re fine. We’re fine, right?”  
   “... Right.” She was now really confused.

The truth was, Crowley felt guilty for his behaviors from the previous night. He knew how much she loved reading.  
He knew it and interrupted anyway.   
They argued.

Well.

They didn’t argue. She ignored him and he threw a childish fit.

In the end, she was the one who apologized and pampered him back to bed. And now he felt like a bastard.

Selfishness was right up his street. It was his job. He never felt the need to apologize for it. Hell, back where he came from, you would be mocked and bullied for apologizing. But they were together now, she told him countless times that she loved him, and though he never said it, they both knew he felt the same. It felt wrong to take advantage of her kindness and affection, more wrong than his usual badness, wrong in a way that had nothing to do with good or evil, and the feeling didn’t sit well with him.

So, as much as it pained him physically to apologize, he was ready to do it, even if she didn’t really need an apology. The look of pride and joy on her face whenever he did something "honorable" was more than worth it.

   “Um…uh…” He swallowed, avoiding her kind, patient eyes.

She smiled encouragingly.

   “I am… I’m… s- sorry.” He stammered, feeling like he was choking, his whole body tense.  
   “What for?” The puzzled look on her face proved him right. She wasn’t even offended by his outburst from last night.  
   “F-for acting like a bloody bastard yesterday.” He mumbled with a grimace. “I don’t want you to think that I don’t care about you and your books…”  
   “Oh, Crowley, of course not!” She cupped his face to make him look at her, and the open emotions on her face brought another kind of pain in his chest. She smiled at him, her thumb caressing his jaw.

She knew that he cared. He cared deeply. He always asked before touching any of her books. He was always careful when he borrowed them. He was always cautious with his plants and water sprays, fearing the humidity would damage her books. He was constantly fretting over the tiniest flick of flame, weary of all the paper lying around their place. He cared about her safety as much as her happiness.

True, she would be upset if anything happened to her books, but her sadness would  _break his heart_. A heart he supposedly didn’t have.

   “What you said yesterday, did you mean it?” His treacherous tongue once again betrayed his insecurities.

  _I love you._

_More than your books?_

_Of course, silly head._

   “All of it.” She said sincerely.  
   “But the books… you’re always so happy…” He whimpered.

That was when she tiptoed to kiss him, and it was none of those timid pecks she gave him when they were in public. She kissed him with fervor, licking into his mouth, moaning unabashedly. It was the kind of kiss they witnessed at the very beginning of humanity. The kind they indirectly initiated. He could feel his insides shred into pieces, twist and shift and melt and mold into something heavy and light at the same time. He knew her love was the closest thing to death he’ll ever get: an end with the promise of so much more.

   “But with you, I’m always so…  _alive_.” She breathed against his lips, with so much awe in her voice that he felt  _wrecked_.

There were days he forgot why he “Sauntered Vaguely Downwards”, especially when he was with her, when he looked at her… but it’s moments like this, with her lips on his, that he remembered exactly why he Fell.


End file.
